


Halloween Night

by julliangray



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 13:24:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julliangray/pseuds/julliangray
Summary: Response to the 2019 H/F Halloween Challenge
Relationships: Templeton "Faceman" Peck/John "Hannibal" Smith
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	Halloween Night

October 31, 1953

Blood, he can smell the blood and could hear the chants muffling his mother’s cries beneath the hum and his mother begging not for her life, but his. Her screams were of promises broken, an innocent child, her child… He could remember running, her pulling him along until he falls, his knees scraping the ground, but she pulls him upright. Their flight in the night from the outskirts of LA ending up at the doors of a church. She left him alone in the dark with unseen creatures all around him, some of them wanting to kill him. 

October 20, 1973  
Face sat straight up in bed, sweating and gasping for breath. It was the same dream every year at this time, the vision of his abandonment, the night he learned to fear Halloween. The dreams always start a week before Halloween and continue until the night before. At some point he always gives up sleeping altogether. He would leave for the church on October 30th well before dark and stay the afternoon of November 1st. During entire time, he would pray for everything he could think of, but mainly Face would pray for his soul; but this year things were different, this year he was with Hannibal. 

The two had moved in with one another during the spring, and it had been a whirlwind affair. Sure they served with one another for years, and they had done their fair share of flirting and groping in the dark, but it had never gotten serious until they were on the run. Face, however, had kept Hannibal at arm’s length always afraid of commitment and what it would bring. He was utterly shocked when Hannibal not only put forth an effort but made sure that he was truly happy, and that was where his dilemma came into play. 

Hannibal loved Halloween, he decorated for it, dressed up in costume during it, carved pumpkins and enjoyed passing out candy. This year, their first living together Face had tried to tell Hannibal that he had plans for the evening, that he was going to help out at the church like he did every year, but Hannibal wanted him at the house with him, dressed in a costume and passing out candy to the little ones. Hannibal didn’t understand that Halloween brought out a terror in him that was not of this world. There is something malevolent out there on Halloween night, and he knew it is looking for him. 

“Hey, sunshine, you okay?” 

Face let out a soft sigh as he felt Hannibal’s large hand on his back.

“Yeah,” Face nods, but he didn’t turn to look at his lover, he could never lie to the older man’s face, and he was anything but okay. 

“Nightmare?” 

“Yeah,” Face scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

“Seems like it’s been happening a lot lately,” Hannibal sat up just enough to wrap his arm around Face’s shoulder so that he could pull him back down to his side. “You want to talk about it?” 

“No,” Face shook his head as he tucked in close to Hannibal’s side, his head resting on the older man’s shoulder while his hand rested on his heart. 

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Yes,” Face sighed as he willed himself to relax, but knew there was no way that he was going to be able to go back to sleep. 

“I hope you understand that I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

“I do,” Face said wishing it were true.

“I wonder sometimes,” Hannibal huffed as he pulled Face closer to him and kissed the top of the blonde’s head. 

October 31, 1973

“You’re up early,” Hannibal spoke to Face, who was sitting at the kitchen table a cup of coffee between his hands.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Face shrugged, “Figured I would get out of bed, so I didn’t wake you up.”

“Did you ever go back to sleep last night?”

Face thought about lying but knew it was useless with the older man staring him right at him, so he dropped his head and let out a deep sigh, before answering. “No.”

“What’s going on, kid?” Hannibal moved to sit down beside Face. 

“Nothing I can’t deal with,” Face looked up to offer Hannibal a slight smile. 

“Alright,” Hannibal stood as he placed his hands on Face’s shoulders and squeezed. “You going to help me carve pumpkins?”

“I’m going to Mass, in a little bit.”

“Is that a yes or a no?” Hannibal laughed as he moved from behind Face to the coffee pot. 

“What time?”

“Considering trick or treating starts at 6:00, I’d like to have everything set up by 4:00, so if you could, be back around 2:00.”

“I’ll be here,” Face nodded as he rose from the table, leaving his cup of cold coffee behind.  
***St Brendan Church***

Face had wanted to go to the orphanage for mass, but there was no way he could make it across town and back before 2:00, so he’d gone to St Brendan’s. It was a beautiful church, a bit flashier than he was used to, but not near as grand as St. Vincent De Paul. The moment the doors had closed behind him, Face felt a sense of peace come over him, and despite his growing anxiety, he he could at least breathe, as he took his seat among the others. When the service was over, Face remained in his seat with his head bowed in prayer. He continued to pray until he felt a hand land on his shoulder, causing him to jump in his seat. 

“Easy son,” The old priest smiled down at him. “Is there something I can help you with, you seem ill at ease.”

“I’m okay, Father,” Face smiled back; “You just caught me off guard.”

“You did appear to be deep in thought.”

“One last prayer before the festivities begin tonight.” Face chucked, though he didn’t feel a bit of humor in it. He looked down at his watch and sighed. “And if I don’t want to be late, I should probably leave.”

Face stood to go, but the priest stopped him by squeezing his shoulder again. “God is always there for you should you need him; all you need to do is speak his name.”

“Thank you, Father.” Face nodded, feeling better about everything until he stepped outside the church, where dread once again covered him like a dark cloak.

***  
“Face, that you kid?” Hannibal called out from the kitchen when he heard the front door open and close.

“Yeah,” Face’s voice proceeded him by a few seconds before he appeared in the doorway. 

“You feel like getting elbow-deep in pumpkin guts?” Hannibal asked as he plunged the knife in the top of the pumpkin before he vigorously began cutting a circle creating a lid. 

“Do I have a choice?” Face shuddered as he watched the blade make easy work of the thick skin. 

“I was only asking to be nice,” Hannibal gave Face a mischievous smile. 

“Fine,” Face rolled his eyes; let me change shirts.” He tried to keep his voice and mannerisms light and jovial, but it was becoming a struggle as he watched the knife continue its mutilation of the large orange Cucurbita. 

Hannibal stops carving for a moment to look at Face. While he’s excited about the night's festivities, he’s also concerned about his boy. He knows that Face isn’t sleeping at night and hasn’t been for the last few days, but at the same time, the kid won’t talk to him about it and if Hannibal knows one thing it’s you can’t get Face to talk if he doesn’t want to. Instead, he did what he did best, and that was to pick on Face to try and provoke a response out of him. 

“What’s wrong with the shirt you have on?”

“It cost me a hundred dollars.”

“You paid that much? You know K-Mart sells them for ten dollars.”

“K-Mart, are you kidding me?” 

“That’s where I get mine from, and I don’t see a difference between your shirt and mine.”

“Please do not tell me you didn’t just say you can’t tell the difference between a hundred dollar shirt and your K-Mart, blue light special!”  
“So you do shop there!” 

“I do NOT!” Face snapped as he spun on his heels and stormed down the hall to their bedroom. 

“Love you, kid,” Hannibal laughed as he heard the bedroom door slam.

Face emerged fifteen minutes later in a pair of faded blue jeans and a black t-shirt. The kid was hot as hell, and Hannibal had to adjust his pants at the sight of him. 

“So, what are you dressing up as?” 

“A serial killer,”

“Please tell me how you’re a serial killer when you’re dressed normally?”

“Serial killers look just like everyone.” Face smirked as he walked up to Hannibal and placed his hands on the older man’s chest. “My victims of choice are older gay men who insist on pissing me off.”

“Guess I’m in trouble,” Hannibal chuckled as he wrapped his arms around Face pinning him to his body. 

“Very much so,” Face growled. 

“Well, if I’m going to die, I might as well make it worth it.” Hannibal tilted his head down to capture Face’s mouth. Though like many times before Face turned the table on him and when they broke apart, Hannibal was the one that was left breathless. 

“You sure you don’t want to do something better than cover me in pumpkin guts.”

“I can think of a lot of things better, but there will be little ghosts and goblins at our door in a couple of hours, and we need to have everything ready for them. Not to mention, we have to keep Stingy Jack away.” Hannibal released Face and moved back towards the kitchen table where the pumpkins sat. 

“Who?” 

“Stingy Jack, from Ireland,” Hannibal shook his head. “He tricked the Devil for monetary gain, and when Jack died, God didn’t allow him into heaven, and the Devil didn’t let him into hell, so Jack was sentenced to roam the earth for eternity. Kids would carve horrific faces in turnips to keep him away during Samhain when the world between ours and the spirit world is thinnest.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” Face wrinkled his nose as he reached down inside the pumpkin and pulled out a handful of seeds and goop.

“There must be something to it; the druids practiced their religion for centuries.” Hannibal shrugged as started cutting into the second pumpkin. “It was the Roman Catholic Church that felt it needed to come up with All Saints’ Day, and places it on November first.” 

“Let’s not get into religion.” Face narrowed his eyes as he slung the guts down on the table.

“I’m just saying there are things older than organized religion.”

“Now, I’m getting a history lesson too?” Face rolled his eyes. 

“No, just thought you might like some conversation.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t need a lecture on ancient religion.” 

“Alright, what do you want to talk about?”

“How about why your plans always involve me going through the front door?”

“Brat,” Hannibal laughed as he slung some of the pumpkin innards in Face’s direction.

*** 7:50pm***

Face sat quietly on the front porch just behind Hannibal, who was having the time of his life passing out candy to the trick-or-treaters. Most were small children who needed their parent’s encouragement to say trick-or-treat while others were pre-teens. There were even a few teenagers who probably shouldn’t be going door to door begging for candy, but Hannibal felt that it was better for them to dress in costumes and ask for treats than to be up to other kinds of mischief. 

Face had gone back inside the house a few times, but Hannibal had pulled him back out, insisting that he come see some cute costume. Face would nod and smile, but his unease with the growing darkness continued to increase now with ten minutes left before the sugar hustle was officially over he was ready to climb the exterior brick walls of the house whenever someone screamed. 

“Face?...Face?” No response. “Hey, Lieutenant!”

Face jerked backward, falling off his seat, landing on his ass and bouncing his head against the brick wall when Hannibal’s voice cut through his thoughts startling him. 

“Jesus, kid,” Hannibal dropped the bowl of candy he had been holding so that he could rush by Face’s side. “Let me see,”

“I’m okay,” Face mumbled as he reached for the back of his head, hissing when his hand came in contact with the wound. 

“We all know your definition of okay,” Hannibal sighed as he pushed Face’s hand away so he could get a better look. “You’re bleeding.”

“Surprise, surprise,” 

“Come on, let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”

“What about your trick-or-treaters?” 

“It’s close enough to be over.” Hannibal put his hands under Face’s arms and pulled him to his feet. “Besides, they can ring the doorbell.” 

Fifteen minutes later, Face was sitting on the couch with an ice pack on the back of his head while Hannibal finished pouring them both a cup of coffee. 

“You want something to eat?” Hannibal asked as he sat down next to Face. 

“No, I’m not hungry,”

“You haven’t eaten much in the last couple of days, or been sleeping for that matter.”

“I’ll get over it,” 

“You know that being in a relationship means sharing the bad too.” 

“It’s nothing you can do.”

“Are you sure about that, Tem?” Hannibal cupped Face’s cheek in the palm of his hand.

“I…” Face stopped and took a drink of his coffee. He wanted so badly to share this with someone, but at the same time, he’d also been told as a child that to think on the devil was to invite him to appear. Taking a deep breath, Face was about to unburden himself of all his fears when the doorbell rang. “Are you going to get that?”

“It’s after 8:00 pm,” Hannibal stroked his thumb across Face’s cheekbone. “And you are far more important to me than handing out a piece of candy.”

“I have dreams from when I was a child…”

The doorbell rang.

“Go on Tem,”

“I can remember my mother, and…”

The doorbell rang again.

“Go answer it.”

“They’ll go away,” 

The doorbell rang.

“No, they’re not.” 

“I’ll be back in a second,” Hannibal sighed as he rose from the couch, knowing that Face would probably clam up and never say another word about what was eating him alive. 

Face could hear Hannibal walking down the hall towards the front door, and just as he heard the older man unlock, the deadbolt dread struck him like a physical blow leaving him shaking and unable to move from his position on the couch.

Part 2 

Hannibal opened the front door to see a teenage kid standing there in a devil's costume. 

“You’re a little late buddy, time for trick or treating has passed.”

“Yeah, I know, mister, but the old guy paid me a100 dollars to ring your bell until someone answered.”

“What old guy?” Hannibal looked passed the teen's shoulder. 

“I don’t know; he was some creepy old guy in a black suit.” The teen shrugged, “He was over there.” The teen turned to point, “Well, he was over there.”

Hannibal grabbed the bowl of candy by the front door and handed it to the teen. “Well, either way, you hit the jackpot.” 

“Thanks, mister! This is great…”

The loud sound of shattering glass from the back part of the house and Face’s terrified yell brought all of Hannibal’s military experience into focus. As he turned, he slammed the front door shut on the startled teen before locking it, thus making sure that no one else could gain entry from behind him. Reaching under the hall table, he grabbed the Colt 1911 that he kept hidden there and quickly made his way down the hall, making sure to stay low and his back to the wall. As he entered the living room Hannibal scan for danger he noted that there was a goat’s head lying in the middle of the floor surrounded by glass.  
“Face, talk to me, kid, what did you see?” Hannibal called out but didn’t take his eyes off the unblinking eyes of the dead animal and the night behind it. 

When he got no response took in a deep breath and barked his request for information as an order. 

“Report Lieutenant!”

“I don’t know,” 

The trembling tone in Face’s voice made Hannibal feel like a complete heel, but he had to press harder.

“What do you mean you don’t know? What did you see, Lieutenant?”

“There was something… it was just outside the door… it was black…I don’t remember…”

“I want a report. What did you see?” Hannibal snapped.

“I don’t know!” Face shouted back, and the tone in his voice caused Hannibal to turn and take a closer look at his lover. Face was huddled in the corner as far from the shattered French door as possible. His usually tan face was pale white, and his eyes were impossibly wide with fear. Never in all the time, he’d known the younger man had he ever seen him so frightened, not even during their worst moments during the war. 

“I’m sorry,” Hannibal started backing towards Face, his eyes and weapon never leaving the back door. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.” When he was within a few inches of Face, he turned back to look at the blonde. “Give me your hand, kid.” 

Hannibal watched as Face looked up at him, and he thought he was going to have to make his request again when Face lifted a shaking hand to place it in his. 

“That’s it, on your feet, sunshine.” Hannibal pulled Face to his feet and tucked him into his side. “Did you see anyone?”

“No…” Face pressed himself as close to the older man. “There was something out there, but all I could see was darkness, there was no face, no eyes, just darkness.”

As Face began to speak, Hannibal felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. He could feel cold and dread seeping into his bones, and it was then that he noticed that despite the lights being on in the room it was getting darker. When he shuttered, he felt Face press even closer into his side. 

“You feel it, don’t you?” Face whispered. “The cold?”

Hannibal wanted to lie to try to give Face some comfort, but he couldn’t. 

“I do,” Hannibal nodded, “and we’re getting out of here.”

“There’s no place you can go, no place you can run; he belongs to Moloch!” A voice roared out of the darkness just before a tall creature with a large bull’s head appeared its body filling the doorway. “Bring him!”

Hannibal took a step back, shoving Face behind him as he did. His rational mind told him that the creature standing before him was nothing more than a man in a mask, but there was a dark aura that surrounded him that filled Hannibal with dread. 

“Bring the sacrifice to me!” The man in the bull’s head snarled as he stepped forward, allowing four men to enter the house behind him. 

“He’s not going anywhere,” Hannibal growled back, no one was going to threaten Face and they sure as hell weren’t going to take his boy out of their home. 

“I am the high priest of Moloch, and I insist that you turn over the sacrifice, he was promised as a child!” 

“Tough shit,” Hannibal raised his weapon and pointed it at the man closest to him. 

“Moloch will have his sacrifice, get him!” The priest screamed, and the man closest to Hannibal and Face started to charge forward. 

“You want a sacrifice; you got one.” Hannibal pulled the trigger; the henchman staggered back with a bullet in his shoulder. 

“You dare?” The priest took a step forward. 

“I more than dare,” Hannibal raised his weapon and shot another henchman in the knee. 

“This is not over; Moloch will have what was promised to him.” The priest snarled as he backed out the broken door, with two other men dragging out the injured not far behind.

“Where the hell do these people come from, and why do they always come after you?” Hannibal mumbled as he half pulled half dragged Face down the hall towards the garage. 

“Moloch,” Face mumble as he leaned heavily on his lover. 

“Come on, kid, stay with me, I’m going to get you out of here.” 

“I know the name.” Face’s voice was barely a whisper, but Hannibal still heard it. 

“You know these freaks?” Hannibal had just placed his hand on the garage door when Face stopped him in his tracks. 

“No, seen it in one of your books.”

Hannibal was sure he didn’t want to discuss his collection of various novels he had acquired over the years at this moment in time. 

“Diodorus Siculus,” Face mumbled. “But I don’t recall the story.”

“He wrote about the destruction of Troy.” Hannibal filled in as he pushed the button to the garage door. “And we can talk about this later.”

“The only place that is safe is the church.” Face’s eyes widened, and his breath started to quicken as he thought about being on the open streets. 

“Then that’s where we’ll go.” 

“It won’t be that easy,” Face shook his head, and as if to prove his point when the garage door opened, there was a group of hooded individuals standing outside the door. 

“Face, they’re just people.” And to prove his point, Hannibal started the engine, pulled the vehicle into reverse and slammed the accelerator to the floor. None of them moved as Hannibal had expected, and the large SUV slammed into them, sending bodies flying through the air and under the tires. The sickening crunching noises continued as the hooded figures threw themselves at the Suburban, but it didn’t matter to Hannibal what they did. He kept the accelerator to the floor until all four tires made contact with the road. 

The Colonel jerked down on the shifter slamming the transmission into drive as the robed figures started to gather around the SUV banging on the windows. Before he could get vehicle rolling forward one of them smashed the passenger’s side window, and within less than a second a group of them were trying to pull Face through the hole. Hannibal grabbed the gun from the center console swung his arm across his lover’s chest, firing until it clicked empty. As the mob started to swarm the Suburban, he shoved the accelerator to the floor once more and launched the SUV down the street. It wasn’t until they were several blocks away that he dared take his eyes off the road to look at Face. 

The blonde was as gray as ash, his eyes impossibly wide, and his breathing was coming out in ragged gasps. There were spots of blood welling up from where the glass had cut him and worse still fingernail scratches crossing his cheeks and throat. The way Face was scrunched down in his seat; he looked like a small child. 

“Face?” Hannibal reached out to touch his lover, but the younger man shrank back farther away from him. 

“You were there that night.” Face whispered.

“What are you talking about?” Hannibal turned his attention back towards the road as he pushed his foot down harder on the accelerator. 

“The night they tried to sacrifice me.” 

“Face, you’re not thinking clearly,” Hannibal shook his head. “I would have been around fifteen when you were five.”

“No, you were there!” Face started to pull at the door latch, but it wouldn’t open due to the automatic locks that engaged when the SUV was put in gear. As the panic started to build Face began to claw at the door handle, memories long pushed down and locked away were surfacing, and amongst all the blood and death, he could see a pair of blue eyes watching him. 

Hannibal watched the terror spreading across the blonde’s face and knew that the younger man remembered the night that would haunt Hannibal till the day he died. He wanted to try denying Face’s memories, but as he watched the terror build in his lover’s eyes, he knew it would be impossible.  
“Face, I…” was all he could get out before the younger man managed to get the door unlocked. It took everything in Hannibal’s power to grab the blonde by the shirt to keep him from jumping out and keeping the SUV on the road. 

“Let go!” Face yelled as he struggled to escape the larger man’s grasp. “You bastard! You killed her!”

“No, Face, no.” Hannibal stomped on the brake causing Face’s chest to crash into the dashboard knocking the air and fight out of him at the same moment. 

Before Face had a chance to recover, Hannibal pulled him in so that the lieutenant’s back was to his chest. Face tried to fight him off, but couldn’t get air in his lungs. He didn’t think it could get worse until Hannibal’s arm slipped around his throat cutting off his airway. 

“Don’t fight it, kid,” Hannibal whispered in Face’s ear as his struggles weakened until halting altogether. 

Once he was sure that Face had blacked out, Hannibal leaned over the prone body and shut the passenger door before picking up the cell phone to dial a number he hoped he never had to call. “He remembers,” Hannibal listened to the voice on the other end of the line for close to a minute before acknowledging what had been told to him, “I understand.”

Hanging up the phone, Hannibal sat back in the driver’s seat, brushing his fingers through Face’s hair as he shifted his lover so that his head was resting on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Tem.” 

Face was right; he had been there that night some fifteen years prior. Hannibal had been a young and stupid kid on his first real leave since joining the army. He’d heard about a gathering dedicated to the god Cronus and thought it would be something interesting to see especially as he’d loved Siculus writing and remembered a passage from one written about the pagan god which read:

There was in their city a bronze image of Cronus extending its hands, palms up and sloping toward the ground, so that each of the children when placed thereon rolled down and fell into a sort of gaping pit filled with fire.

Diodorus also relates that relatives were forbidden to weep and that when Agathocles defeated Carthage, the Carthaginian nobles believed they had displeased the gods by substituting low-born children for their own children. They attempted to make amends by sacrificing 200 children of the best families at once, and in their enthusiasm actually sacrificed 300 children.

But with full knowledge and understanding they themselves offered up their own children, and those who had no children would buy little ones from poor people and cut their throats as if they were so many lambs or young birds; meanwhile the mother stood by without a tear or moan; but should she utter a single moan or let fall a single tear, she had to forfeit the money, and her child was sacrificed nevertheless; and the whole area before the statue was filled with a loud noise of flutes and drums that the cries of wailing should not reach the ears of the people.

Hannibal had expected to see a play with lots of bad acting and perhaps some tits and ass. Instead, he witnessed a nightmare that he would never forget. 

When Hannibal arrived at the gathering, he was turned away for not being a member. He was going to leave but noticed a spare robe hanging on a tree branch and decided what the hell. From there, he simply pulled the hood down low and followed a group of others in. In the center of a clearing there was a large bonfire rising several feet into the sky. Though he was standing at least thirty feet away from it he could feel the heat of the flames. Off to the right he saw several women dressed in white robes with young children in their arms.

Standing just a little further way from the rest was a little blonde-haired blue-green eyed child who was holding the folds of his mother’s robes and staring directly at him. Hannibal wasn’t the best at guessing ages, but he believes the child to be around four maybe five at the most. Hannibal smiled at the boy, he was a cute little fellow, and he hoped that this crazy play would be over early so the kid could trick-or-treat before it got too late. 

The chanting started to get louder, and Hannibal turned his attention back towards the crowd of hooded figures. Then a robed figure appeared dressed in blood-red robes wearing a bull’s head mask. He approached the children laying his hand on each of them before taking one of the babies from their mother’s arms. He held it up to the crowd and turned in a slow circle chanting before tossing the child into the fire. It was a sight, sound, and smell that would stick with Hannibal for the rest of his life. 

Realizing that this wasn’t a show, Hannibal pushed his way through the crowd in an attempt to stop the man in the mask, but before he got there another child had been tossed into the flames, and the people around him were now chanting so loud it was deafening. Hannibal was shocked by the mothers waving their children in the air, presenting them to the man in the mask to be slaughtered. All except one, the mother of the blonde-haired boy was struggling to break away from the throng and of robed worshipers, but the harder she pushed against them, the more they shoved her and the child towards the fire. 

As Hannibal watched the insanity unfolding before him, he knew that there was no way he could save all the children, but he could save the one. Surging forward through the crowd, he snatched the boy up in his arms before grabbing his mother by the wrist, dragging her behind him. Thankfully the worshipers of Cronus were so caught up in their dancing chanting and screaming around them they managed to make it to the end of the clearing before anyone noticed they were moving away from the fire. 

Several of the larger cultists started after them, but Hannibal kept shoving his way forward until they were able to break free and make a run through the woods. He didn’t know how many times he tripped over branches, or the boy’s mother fell, but he refused to stop. When his feet finally hit the pavement, Hannibal forced himself and the child’s mother to run even harder. They made it several miles when he finally allowed them to slow their pace. 

Hannibal wanted to ask the woman why she had taken her child to a place like that, but she seemed as shocked about the experience as he was. The little boy he held in his arms had buried his head in his shoulder and hadn’t looked up once. They walked another few miles when the woman finally spoke, telling him that they would find her and the boy that nowhere was safe. In the end, they had found a church, and he had left them there at the steps with the intention of coming back to help them after he made sure that they weren’t being followed. 

When he’d come back half an hour later, they were both gone. Hannibal had reported what he had seen to the local authorities however, by the time they went out to the forest to investigate there was nothing left but a burning pile of wood. He had tried to find the young woman and her child for several days, but eventually, his leave time came to an end; he had to give up his search. Then as fate would have it, a beautiful blue-green eyed, blonde-haired teenager stepped off the chopped in Vietnam, and Hannibal knew when they had met before. 

***  
Face slowly opened his eyes, blinking as he tried to clear the gray around the edges of his vision. Head pounding he felt weak, nauseous and, worst of all, he still remembered what happened to make him feel as he did. He closed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to push down the bile rising in the back of his throat. Certain the nausea had been pushed down, Face looked at his surroundings and when he tried to rise confirmed he was in serious trouble. He was lying flat on his back on a large stone slab in the middle of a wooded clearing. His arms and legs restrained making it impossible to move them even an inch. His clothes were gone except for a white loincloth tied around his waist. Surrounding him were several figures dressed in white robes were softly humming. 

“Wouldn’t you prefer a virgin?” Face rasped out desperately using sarcasm as a shield to protect himself from his emotions. Noting Face was awake, the robe figures moved closer to the stone altar. Each laid their right hand on him while lifting the left skyward. 

“Can we talk about this fellows? I’m not knocking your religion, but I have my own, and being sacrificed isn’t something…” Face trailed off when several more figures approached the alter carrying urns and palm leaves. These individuals stood behind the first group and placed a palm branch in each of the up stretched hands. With a step to the side, they tipped the urns, covering Face in clear oil. The hands still on him began massaging the oil into his skin. 

“I’ve had enough,” Face pulled hard against the restraints holding him to the stone. “Let me go…” As he continued to struggle, the cords bit deep into his skin, tightening the restraints and cutting off his circulation. 

“Be still, child.” One of the robed figures stepped up to the altar and placed his hand on Face’s forehead. 

“Let me up!” Face screamed as he pulled even harder against his bonds, chafing his skin.

“He must not draw blood.” The robed figure at his head turned to another figure standing in the shadows. “All will be lost if he bleeds in our care.”

“I understand, brother.” 

Face immediately stopped struggling when he heard the voice of the other man; then started again when his memory of his last moments with Hannibal flooded his mind. 

“You bastard!”

Hannibal quickly moved forward to place his hands on Face’s wrists, keeping him from pulling against the bindings. 

“Face, be still.” 

“Fuck you,” Face growled as he tried to remove his hands from the older man’s grip. “Get the hell away from me!” 

“You have to trust me, kid.”

“Like hell I do,” Face spat back. “You’ve lied to me the entire time you have known me!”

“I have never lied to you,” Hannibal leaned forward so that he was only inches from the younger man’s face while keeping his hands firmly on his wrists. 

“Then what the hell do you call this?” Face snarled as he tried to head-butt his lover.  
Hannibal jerked his head back as quickly as he could and just managed to dodge Face’s head again as the younger man tried to smash him in the nose. 

“It’s called saving your life, you hard-headed jackass.” 

“Being sacrificed to a pagan god is NOT what I call being saved.”

“I would never let anyone hurt you; you know that.” 

“But it’s okay for you?” Face sneered. “Or have you forgotten about choking me out already?”

“You woke up, didn’t you?” 

“Fuck you!” Face growled. 

“We must proceed, brother, time is running short.”

Hannibal nodded as he locked eyes with Face. “I need you to trust me.”

“Go to hell!”

“Brother, the moon is almost at its peak, we must proceed, or all will be lost.”

“Alright, you want the truth, fine, yes, I was there that night, and when I saw what was happening I ran with you and your mother. I left the two of you there at the church, and I lead the others away when I came back, the two of you were gone. I regret every damn day of my life not searching harder for the two of you.”

“You’re lying.” 

“I’m not, and you know it.” Letting go of the younger man’s wrists Hannibal moved his hands to cup his lover’s face. “Please Tem,”

“Don’t call me that.” Face spat out.

“If that’s what you want, Lieutenant, so be it; but I need you to lie still and let the ritual happen.”

Face continued to glare at the older man for several more minutes before he hissed out. 

“You win, but if I live through this, I never, want to lay eyes on you again.” 

“Agreed.” Hannibal nodded as he stood back up an moved away from Face. 

As Hannibal moved out of the way, the robed figures approached him, and there chanting started again. Face stared up at the stars and wondered how his life had changed because of one night so long ago. When he felt the hands on his body again he wanted to yell and scream for them to stop, but he didn’t care anymore. 

Hannibal stood back and watched as the druids continued their ritual that would hopefully purge Face from the darkness that kept trying to destroy him. He remembered the first Halloween night in Vietnam with Face and how scared his boy had been. At first, Hannibal chalked it up to the past trauma that Face had experienced but soon came to realize that there was a dark presence that seemed to grow by the hour. When Face finally made his way to the makeshift church he’d stood outside the tent door kept watch, feeling the cold and darkness creeping in the closer it got to midnight. 

Hannibal had watched Face struggle each year around Halloween, and he knew why he was terrified. After that night Hannibal had done his own research, and Face had an excellent reason to be petrified. Hell the more he read, the more it scared him, and that was when he knew that he had to be ready. Though at this point he wasn’t sure what the outcome of this was going to be considering what he knew was coming.

He couldn’t be sure, but at one point he’d though he’s seen several figures in red just outside the camp’s perimeter. It was then and there that he’d started to plan to end the entire nightmare. 

It had taken him years before he’d found a group that not only told him that they could help but wanted to. He’d tried to bring up the subject of the brotherhood and the followers of Moloch on several occasions, but Face’s beliefs were firmly planted in the Catholic religion, and there was no persuading the younger man that there was another way. So here he was standing in a clearing watching his whole world fall apart so he could save the man he loved who now wanted nothing more to do with him. 

As the moon rose higher into the sky and the chanting reached its crescendo, Hannibal heard movement behind him. He turned just as the man in the bull’s head mask made his way to the edge of the clearing. 

“Stop this; he is ours!” The man shrieked as more red robbed figures gathered around him. 

Hannibal pulled his sidearm and took aim; he was just about to squeeze the trigger when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Spill no blood brother, not at his holy site.” 

“I won’t let them take him,” Hannibal growled as he tightened his grip. 

“They won’t brother, the goddess is here, and she shall protect us all.” 

“You swear,”

“I will give my own life for him if the goddess requires it.”

“And I shall take it!” The high priest of Moloch roared as he tried to take a step into the clearing but was hit by a gust of wind that knocked him off his feet. “Take the sacrifice!” the high priest snarled as he staggered back to his feet. As the other robed figures rushed towards the circle, lightning danced in the clear night sky as the thunder boomed loud enough to deafen. 

“The boy is under the goddess’s protection.” The brother turned to signal his fellow brothers in white, and they laid the palm leaves across Face’s body, covering him completely. 

“Your goddess is no match for Moloch! Get the sacrifice!” The priest with the bull’s head again ordered. 

Face felt the palm leaves as they were laid on his bare skin, covering all but a small gap around his eyes and instead of ramping up his anxiety it seemed to calm his frayed nerves. Years of fear and dread fell away, and for the first time since he could remember he was at peace on Halloween night. He watched the beauty of the night sky as the stars slowly turned above him. Face felt tears flow from his eyes as his body and mind felt lighter and lighter as he let go of the last of his distress. 

As Face found peace, all hell was breaking loose around him. The worshipers of Moloch were still attempting to get into the clearing, but so far three of them had lost their lives from lightning strikes, and another two had broken backs from being slammed against trees. Yet the high priest of Moloch was determined to sacrifice them all in an attempt to get to Face. 

Hannibal watched in amazement as the high priest screamed and cursed as he and his followers were pelted with hail and rain while the wind-tossed them about like dried leaves as lightning danced across the sky, daring anyone to step forward. Despite all of the chaos and destruction he and the others stood inside the clearing where all was peaceful and calm. 

“You should leave before the goddess becomes upset.” The brother warned the high priest of Moloch. “She has taken the child into her arms, and he is in her protection. Anyone who attempts to harm him shall feel her full wrath.” 

Hannibal watched as a lightning bolt struck the ground just in front of the high priest as if emphasizing the brother’s point. Instead of taking the warning, the high priest screamed in rage before he started ranting and raving at the sky. The other followers of Moloch seemed to hesitate as they watched their leader lose his mind. As if he realized what he was doing, the high priest lowered his arms and motioned for his followers to come to him. He gathered them in a circle, and they began to chant to counter what the brothers were doing around the alter where Face was lying. 

Instead of making their situation better, the storm intensified, and the tree that the high priest was standing by uprooted and crashed to the ground killing three more of Moloch’s followers. Instead of stopping and taking cover they chanting louder trying to make their voices heard over the storm, and for a moment it seemed as if something other than the goddess was listening as the winds suddenly stopped and the fallen tree burst into flames. 

“Moloch is among us!” the high priest shouted triumphantly, and the other red-robed figures started chanting louder raising their voices above those in the clearing. Another tree burst into flames that only seemed to increase their enthusiasm. Their voices rang out above the storm, and just as soon as it started the storm stopped except for the sprinkling of rain that began to penetrate the edge of the clearing. 

Hannibal looked up as several drops of rain splattered against his cheek and then back at the red-robed figures as he felt the warmth of burning tree. 

“You have lost; Moloch is stronger than your pitiful goddess! He will crush you, and the sacrifice will be his! You, however Smith! I will keep you alive to watch the boy be consumed by Moloch, and then I will flay you alive while he burns!”

“Do not fear brother, the goddess with protect us all; you only need to believe in her.”

Hannibal looked back at Face; his body draped under the palm fronds, his breathing slow and steady as if nothing was happening around him. Taking in a deep breath Hannibal turned his attention back to the high priest who was basking in the recent turn of events. 

“Goddess, I don’t know if you truly exist, but please save my boy. I know a lot of people don’t believe it, but he’s innocent, he has the kindest and most generous heart of anyone you will ever meet. But more than anything else he never deserved any of this.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the splattering of rain stopped inside the clearing, and as the followers of Moloch danced around the burning tree in glee the world outside the clearing started to tear itself apart. 

In the blink of an eye, the night sky turned into an angry bruise, filled yellow, blue, purple, green, and black. The wind whipped around the trees, twisting and turning the branches to and fro as the lightning flashed and danced through the sky as the heavens seemed to open up, and torrents of rains soaked those standing outside of the clearing and extinguished the fire on the fallen tree. 

“Moloch, destroy these…!” the high priest tried to scream over the howling winds, but it was useless as the winds and rains only increased until it sounded like a freight train roaring through the sky. Through the lightning flashes Hannibal could make out a funnel-shaped cloud dipping down from the sky. Even if he had wanted to shout a word of warning he couldn’t before the tornado dropped from the sky and picked up all of Moloch’s followers including the high priest. As the funnel cloud lifted Hannibal could see flashes of lightning strike the bodies inside the raging funnel. Then just as suddenly as it all started it stopped, the area outside the clearing looked just as it had before the storm had started. 

“Go, home brother; the goddess has put the world to right.” 

Hannibal turned to look at the priest, but he was already moving back towards the others who stood around the stone altar. 

“Can you make sure that Face is taken care of?” Hannibal raised his head to look up at the stars as he felt the tears sting his eyes. “He’s a fighter, but he’s still just a scared little boy inside.”

“The goddess has set things right.” The brother repeated with a smile on his lips. 

Not being able to help himself, Hannibal turned one last time to look at Face, and his heart stopped in his chest when he saw that the altar was empty except for the pawn leaves.  
“Where is he?” Hannibal looked around the clearing, but there was no sign of Face. 

“She is the mother of us all and knows how the world should be.” The brother smiled at Hannibal. “Go home, brother.” 

The sun was just starting to crest the horizon when Hannibal pulled into his driveway and shut off the engine to the SUV. As he looked at the house, he had shared with Face knew that he could never live there again. He’d asked the brother’s several more times about Face’s ware bouts, but they would only repeat, “The goddess has set things right.”

Finally, he had quit asking as he realized that it was the brother’s way of telling him that Face never wanted to see him again. Not that he could blame the kid; after all, he’d made the promise to stay out of his life, so when given a chance to get away from him he was sure Face took it. 

It took all his will-power to exit the vehicle, climb the steps to the house, and go through the front door. As he made his way down the hallway and into the main living area, he noticed that something wasn’t right. The living room was clean, there wasn’t a spot of blood anywhere on the floor, and the back door was unbroken. Hearing a noise behind him Hannibal spun around to see Face standing in the doorway of their bedroom; his blonde hair ruffled from sleep.

“John?” Face rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand making him look so much younger than he was. “I had the strangest dream.” 

End


End file.
